UNGRATEFUL BITCH
He was a pig
an animal
to her, so lonely in the union,
gone were the feathers
the plumes, the parades
his desperate desire
to tell her of his virtues
his plummage now 
his grubby underwear
he made her wince,
almost grateful that
his soiled and sorry lack of manners
had caused her love to fail
for without the love
she was without the ties
and no reason
she should inhale his decaying presence
even his yellowed smile
upset her
reminding her of toothpaste odours
carried on his bad breath

He never understood
to him love was a conquest
once won, forever owned
renewal never crossed his mind
and she knew
that when she said “I’m leaving”
he’d look around in disbelief
momentarily stunned
then call her crazy
and later
as the dishes filled the sink
and desperation cleared the fridge
he’d call her bitch
and mutter drunkenly
of all the things he’d given
sacrificed
to that
ungrateful bitch






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copyright Raslo Layton 1999